The Pathologist's Silence
by emonemotheturtle
Summary: Molly didn't say "I love you".
1. Chapter 1

"I… I love you."

Sherlock saw the smile flit across Molly's face.

"I love you"

This one was for him, for all the years he had been so awful to Molly, the one who mattered most.

"Molly?"

The clock was counting down. They were running out of time.

"Molly, please!"

Panic rose in him. She had to say it.

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

Molly's voice was barely a whisper. She'd had enough of his games. She was done.

"No, Molly… please don't do this."

Sherlock didn't yell. He pleaded quietly. He begged for mercy.

Their time ran out.

The screen went dark.

"Uh oh!" Eurus sang. "What a shame."

"Molly." Sherlock dropped to his knees. "No."

"Right then, moving on!"

The door to the next room slid open.

"Off you go, Sherlock!"

Mycroft made his way to the exit but stopped in the doorway and looked back at his little brother. "Sherlock, however hard this is…"

John shook his head, cutting Mycroft off. He picked the gun up from where his friend had let it fall beside him. John placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Soldiers today."

Sherlock exhaled and looked up towards his friend. Silent tears rolled down his face. Sherlock composed himself, clenched his jaw, and stood up. He walked over to where the lid leaned against the wall. Steeling himself, Sherlock picked up the lid and carried it over to Molly's coffin. He could practically see her lying there. He wasn't naive about death. He imagined her body, her skin tight, her muscles rigid, her flesh cold, her blood pooling at the bottom of her body. He envisioned the burns she'd be covered in, how her limbs would be mangled from the explosion. He shuddered at the thought of Molly Hooper so… damaged.

Sherlock decided he would not let Eurus steal his memory of Molly. He positioned the lid on the coffin, forever burying the broken images of Molly Hooper, and rested his hand atop the wooden box.

"Sherlock?" John's echoed from the door.

Sherlock just kept standing there, looking at Molly's coffin.

"Why didn't you let me save you?" he murmured. "I did what you asked: I said it, I _meant_ it."

"Sherlock," Mycroft this time, more firmly.

"I did what you asked," Sherlock growled through his gritted teeth.

"Sherlock," John called sharply.

" _I did what you asked."_ Sherlock snapped. He smashed his fists into the coffin over and over. He lifted shards of wood and beat them against the trestles. He screamed, a long, anguished, inhuman scream, and collapsed against the cold, stone wall, holding his head in his hands.

"Look, I know this is difficult and I know you're being tortured, but you have got to keep it together." John was now standing above him.

"This isn't torture; this is _vivisection_. We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats." Sherlock spat. He let out a pained sigh and looked up at his best friend.

"Soldiers," they agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

After Sherlock had solved Eurus's final riddle, saving her and John, he stood outside and wallowed in his exhaustion.

"I just spoke to your brother," Lestrade came up behind them.

"How is he?" Sherlock asked with empty sincerity.

"He's a bit shaken up, that's all. She didn't hurt him; she just locked him in her old cell." Lestrade started to walk past the pair, but Sherlock stopped him.

"Oh, um. Mycroft – make sure he's looked after. He's not as strong as he thinks he is."

Lestrade nodded understandingly. Sherlock had obviously been to hell and back that day."Yeah, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Greg."

A look of surprise and concern flashed between John and Lestrade.

"You okay?" John muttered.

"I don't know that I'll ever be okay." Sherlock rubbed his brow.

John pursed his lips, understanding his friend's anguish. "I'm sorry, mate. About Molly."

"Yes, well, it is what it is."

"And what it is is shit."

Sherlock nodded slightly, wrapped his coat tighter around himself, and headed towards the car that would take them home.

"You want to stay with me?" John asked once they were in the vehicle. "Since Baker Street is…"

"No. Thank you, John. I'll stay in the basement flat."

The car dropped John off first. When it arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock thanked the driver, got out of the car, but did not go into 221B. As the car sputtered away, Sherlock decided to take a walk in the cool night air.

He walked for hours, all over London. He walked to St. Bart's, to the fish shop, New Scotland Yard, and finally, to Molly's flat.

From his place on the corner, Molly's flat looked perfect. Of course, Eurus would not want to be too obvious in Molly's murder. She would use enough to kill but not enough to damage surrounding homes. Walls of reasonable strength. He crossed the street to her door.

Sherlock stood on the front step, staring at the door.

He stood there as the sun rose over the city.

He stood there as Molly opened the door to leave for work.

He stood there.

His breath caught in his chest.

His eyes met hers.

"Sherlock, what is it now? I'm late. Sherlock?"

Sherlock felt his legs give out. He heard Molly's voice calling him. He saw the ground getting closer.

Sherlock woke up in a room at St. Bart's. A machine was beeping quietly. John sat in a chair in the corner with Rosie.

Molly was talking to someone outside.

Molly.

Everything rushed back to him. Panic rose in him. Sherlock tried to move, get up, get to Molly.

"No, no, no. Sherlock. You have to stay in bed."

A doctor came in then. "Mr. Holmes, you need to calm down, sir."

Sherlock tried to speak although his voice was hoarse. "I… Molly" he croaked.

"I'm right here, Sherlock," a small voice echoed from the doorway.

Molly.

She crossed to the bed. Everyone else was gone. Molly laid her hand on top of his.

"You died." Sherlock's voice strained.

"John and Greg explained everything. I'm ok, Sherlock. No one hurt me."

"I did what you asked."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I love you."

Sherlock enveloped Molly's hand in his as the world faded to black again.


End file.
